


because my baby don't mean maybe now

by austen



Category: House M.D.
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-01-01
Updated: 2010-01-01
Packaged: 2017-10-05 14:29:56
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 997
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/42716
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/austen/pseuds/austen
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>House shows up a few minutes after she's put Rachel down, with a triumphant smirk that belies his victory in today's case.</p>
            </blockquote>





	because my baby don't mean maybe now

House shows up a few minutes after she's put Rachel down, with a triumphant smirk that belies his victory in today's case. Cameron's earlier visit had given her all the information she needed, but he seems to think the only words worth hearing is the confirmation from his own lips.

Cuddy stands in the open doorway in her sweats, no makeup, hair pulled up and away from her face despite a few rebellious pieces slipping down. When he takes a step forward, she takes one back to let him in. It's like a dance they do, this habitual movement that she's become so accustomed to that it's almost ingrained into her muscles. He brings in the cold with him when he broaches the entrance, and she absently rubs one arm with an accompanying shiver as the door clicks shut behind the scuff of his cane across the floor.

"Cameron already filled me in," she murmurs, watching with mild confusion as he sniffs the air like a bloodhound on the scent, his head hovering near her shoulder.

"House, what are you doing?"

"You smell like baby vomit," he decides, wrinkling his nose. Her gaze fixes on that part of his face, descending down to his jaw and neck. It's there she notices that he hasn't changed his shirt, and she reaches up to pick at the dried flecks of white on the collar.

"_You've_ still got some on you," she points out, nearly squinting with the intensity of the smile that follows. She laughs then, and almost balks at the sound - it's unfamiliar to her ears, has been since she brought the baby home. The noise she knows more than any other is the one of her own tears, soft and bitter, often pressed into Rachel's sweet skin as she shrieks loudly. But tonight, tonight's carried its share of victory for them both, and her hand lingers on House's neck, fingertips scraping over the stubble along his jaw.

"Guess I got caught up in all the excitement of proving Kutner wrong - _again_," he mumbles, and she turns on her heel to move into the kitchen, waiting for the inevitable sound of his shuffling as he follows. She grabs a dish towel from a drawer, runs it under some warm water, and then returns to him, his Adam's apple bobbing up and down while he talks.

"How is the little puke monster? Still terrorizing unsuspecting victims with her upchucking ability?"

One of her hands holds him steady, the other holds the dampened cloth to gently dab at his shirt. Her face betrays her amusement; she can't hide her reaction to the memory of their earlier visit to his office. But at the same time, she can't help thinking about the moment she'd witnessed between the two of them - Rachel's look of utter bewilderment that such a face even exists in the world, with House having a remarkably similar reaction to the tiny little body in his hands.

"You've got to admit, she's got fantastic aim," Cuddy murmurs, returning her attention to his collar as she removes the leftover remnants of Rachel's lunch from his shirt and neck. He scoffs then, exhaling in a whoosh of breath, but she can see something shift in his eyes - agreement, perhaps - and he grabs her wrist, long fingers snaking around the jutting bones. Her breath catches in her throat, and she silently prays the sound isn't loud enough for him to hear or comment on in some way.

There's an understanding that passes between them - through which form of contact, she's not sure - but he looks down at the floor, letting go of her in the same instant. His grip tightens on his cane when she returns to the sink, laying the cloth over the side.

"Cameron quit," House says, and she looks over her shoulder at him.

"I'm coming back tomorrow. I've already hired a nanny. Honestly, I didn't think you'd drive her away that quickly."

"Didn't think she'd last that long," he admits, lips twisting into something between a smile and a smirk. He taps his cane against the floor, she adjusts one of the sleeves of her cardigan, pulling it down over her knuckles.

"Admit it," she replies, waiting to finish when she knows she's got his full attention. His eyes snap up to her, startlingtly assertive in the dim lighting.

"You missed me."

"Sorry?" He shifts his weight from the cane to his good leg. "Couldn't hear you under the obvious undertone of 'what was I thinking?'."

Cuddy opens her mouth for an immediate retort when Rachel stirs in the other room, a sputtering gurgle that will eventually turn into a wail if not quickly attended to, and House visibly winces.

In that moment, she's in full mother mode again, moving past him in the doorway to go and pick her up from her crib. She soothes her with soft, whispered words, gently bouncing her in her arms and swaying until the unhappy noises give way to coos with a shiver and a sigh.

By the time she makes it back to the kitchen, House is at the door. He hesitates midway to the handle, hand hovering in the air, and with a slump of his shoulders, slowly rotates to face them. The space between them is obvious, but she's still filled with some kind of warmth that she can't readily explain.

She turns her head to kiss the baby's cheek, and House looks like he wants to say something, but sets his jaw instead.

"I'll see you tomorrow, House," she whispers, and he responds in a quick jerk of a nod.

When she turns away to put the baby down, she misses the small smile that ghosts over House's features as he ducks his head.

The sound of the door falling shut is one that barely registers as she gazes down at the sleeping baby - _her_ sleeping baby, and somehow, she knows that everything will work itself out.


End file.
